Unity's Ruse
by nicayal
Summary: All he wanted was to make his friend happy and offer a spark of hope for a better future. Axel never imagined his actions might lead to war between two nations whose relations were already more than a little turbulent. AkuRoku & SoRiku set in an AU ATLA universe.
**A/N** : Ugh, hi. I told myself I wasn't going to post anything that so much as resembled another multi-chapter story until I finished one of my currently in-progress works. So, for all intents and purposes, let's say this is a one-shot that I'm just not marking as complete. Because I kind of have a long-form outline for it, and my goal is eventual AkuRoku and SoRiku pairings (with a subsidiary aim of not bastardizing the Avatar universe, but no promises on that one because I'm still quite new to the fandom). For now, I think this reads fine as a stand-alone. You be the ultimate judge.

This'll probably grow once I fulfill my personal vow and finish up with at least one other fic, so feel free to follow along if you like what you so far see. 'Til then, this involves Kingdom Hearts characters thrown into a totally AU form of the ATLA world and that's really all you need to know going in. Enjoy.

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CHAPTER ONE

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The sky was a stoic cloudless on the date that quietly marked the fire prince's birthday. As he fingered the small but treacherous object concealed in one pocket, Axel recalled a time when grand ceremonies once distinguished this day from most others. It was at best a vague memory, a fragmentary recollection of childhood fogged by cover of passing time. Still, he held onto and cherished it.

Sliding his hand out and back down to his side, he made his way through a windowless corridor in a palace that felt more akin to an imperial prison, the red and black Fire Nation insignia prominent on each article of his clothing. Maintaining an unreadable expression, he did not stop to speak with the occasional few whose paths he crossed en route to his intended destination that evening.

They were only guards, after all, and today he was on a stricter than typical schedule.

He passed the unoccupied throne room and silently acknowledged the empty Agni Kai chamber before continuing up a grand set of stairs. The royal spa also remained vacant, as did a great room once rumored to be a library, which now housed neither book nor scroll, until finally he stood before the carved double doors that separated the rest of the palace from the royal family's living quarters. Two guards stood in front of the metal hinges on either side of it, swords sheathed, hands ever at the ready, even though this was professed to be a time of peace.

A few paces in front of them, Axel paused, eyes rising as he considered the entry's façade with its four-cornered dragon carvings. An action rife with seeming innocence, it was a mental tactic to settle his own nerves, to adopt a look that was both lordly and unconcerned. He could not afford for either member of the security detail to stop and search him. Although unlikely, it was a risk that remained life-and-death critical. He took his time, features a front of innocuous intention as he regarded the door before him and the thick sheet of metal it encompassed. If the claims were true, it could withstand even the highest of temperatures, was more or less impenetrable.

He supposed it was fortunate, then, that he ultimately required only one more step forward before both guards leapt to action, hands moving to the levers that unbolted the bars in front of him. In one smooth motion, they reached for two identical handles, biceps straining as both pulled at the door that would grant him entrance.

He didn't speak or directly look at either of them. Just the same, Axel noted their respectful hand gestures and properly bowed heads in his peripherals as he passed by both of them and entered the palace's eastern wing. The heavy clang of metal against metal was indication enough that they had closed and locked the door behind him.

Breath misting, Axel turned to study the back of the door, thumb rubbing against middle and index finger to gauge the new chill in the air. He carried an expression lacking alarm or concern, despite the definitive click of a bolt securing the wing's only exit. He possessed the privilege of free movement, his family's legacy effectively ensuring it. Despite the grandeur of intricate, hand-woven carpets beneath his feet, of crystalline lanterns housing the luminescent glow of fireflies affixed to either side of the corridor wall at regularly spaced intervals, he felt a suffocating sense of claustrophobia at the behest of ingrained knowledge that people weren't supposed to live like this. A caged animal, well fed and provided with every conceivable desire to satisfy its needs, remained yet deprived of its own autonomy.

It wasn't often that Axel thought about concepts like freedom and liberty as he went about his day-to-day routine. Only here, in this place of genteel finery that offered visual echoes of a once-proud autocracy, did he find himself inclined to humor considerations that trended more toward the philosophical.

He turned a corner and ignored the first pair of doors, having no present wish to engage the hot-and-cold whims of Capital City's spirited princess. It was a different maze of rooms that was his current aim, the object he'd smuggled in nearly burning a hole in his pocket with the temptation to redirect a hand from his side, slip it into the fabric of his outermost robe, and ensure it remained a necessary trinity of safe, present, and accounted for.

The external cold also wasn't helping bolster his resolve.

Resistance was reformed by the sighting of a door, the one he was seeking more specifically. Quickening his pace, this time he didn't pause, simply pressed a hand against it and pushed inward. Apart from the entry, there were no locks in this section of the palace, only security details guarding its exterior with orders to kill first if they sensed anything amiss, to ask questions after, if they bothered with the latter at all.

With that unsettling knowledge at the helm of his thoughts, Axel entered.

The first room was small, a space where guests were directed to wait a formal announcement of their presences. More importantly, it was empty, so he continued on, steps brisk, no-nonsense.

The next two rooms were also unoccupied. Axel passed through them with casual familiarity, hardly sparing more than a passing glance at either of them. Room four was where the living interior split, the door to the right leading into a lavish bed chamber that he still could reconstruct from memory down to the smallest detail; nothing much had changed since childhood, to his knowledge. To the left, the salon and primary entertainment space. Making nothing more than an educated guess as to which direction was correct in this instance, Axel veered left.

Unlike the single-slabbed doors that separated the other rooms, the salon's entrance was grander, albeit no less ornately decorated. It took two arms to open, one straining against either arched handle. The doors gave way to a room illuminated by both firefly lanterns and the soft oranges of the evening's sunset. Light reflected off the walls at odd angles, momentarily directing Axel's attention to the portraits lining both walls. An array of Earth Kingdom leaders spread out on his left, to which he paid little mind as his gaze traveled right. It wasn't often that he got the opportunity to view them, these gold-lined frames housing images of past fire lords; long before his own birth, a foreign decree had ordered them removed from all public spaces. Here, in the private chambers of the Fire Nation royal family, was the sole place anyone could view them — and even fewer who were allowed access.

He counted the frames, each brushed gold and uniform in design, stopping only when he reached Fire Lord Suzaku. The founding monarch of the current ruling dynasty, Suzaku's expression was austere, his eyes depicted as though looking over and beyond the painter for whom he'd been sitting. Beneath the portrait sat a boy, one cheek pressed against a nearby window, yellow hair of a grown-out top-knot the very archetype of sun rays given physical form, the symbol of the Fire Nation crowning the head of one who himself bridged the precipice between youth and adulthood. He was perched on an ornate chaise that was positioned beside the window. As Axel moved closer, he tried not to focus on the bars, installed flush against the thin pane of glass, imposing and vertical, and made up of the same impenetrable metal as the doors that siphoned off these living quarters from the rest of the palace.

The boy looked up as he approached. Despite azure eyes as clear as the waters surrounding the archipelago islands that encompassed their nation, there was no liveliness behind them, and his expression didn't change as Axel lowered himself to his knees, hands flat on the floor, upper body stretched prostrate in front of him.

It was the second act of treason he'd committed in a single day, this display of obeisance. Bowing at the waist had been decreed appropriate in this situation, along with a respectful gesture of the hands, one flat palm above a tight fist below it, but there was no hesitation in Axel's movements. He remained face down as an expression of loyalty once taught by the visual illustration of his own father in times deemed safer.

"Hello, Akuseru."

The voice was quiet but easy to hear in a room that was otherwise silent, its tone a confluence of feminine and masculine brought on by the last vestiges of lingering adolescence. As Axel pushed himself up to kneeling, the young man reached out, palm down, fingers outstretched.

With both hands, Axel reached up, drawing pale fingers close to him as he inclined his head to kiss the obsidian ring and the Fire Nation's emblem set in sapphire at its center.

"Prince Rokusasu, good evening. I hope this day finds you well."

The words were murmured, sincere and fervent, and it took all of Axel's willpower not to show any indication of the cold prickle of hollowness that settled within him as the hand returned to its resting place on the crown prince's lap.

"All this formality…" The prince's voice was ruminative. "…to what end, I wonder?"

A heavy sigh followed the inquiry, and Axel hazarded a glance up in time to see the prince turn back to the window. There was still ample light to see past the barren, rocky land that encompassed the area immediately surrounding the palace on into the gardens, green and lush with flourishing plant life. There was a wistful sense of optimism that this was where the prince was looking. While Axel recognized his own inherent foolishness, it was a small concession of hope that he still allowed for himself.

"My lord?"

Still kneeling, Axel posed his question without certainty that the prince's words had been directed at him.

Another sigh, then dull eyes turned to him, the young man's expression listless. Uninterested.

"I said, what is the _point_?"

Axel bowed his head, then shook it in two succinct movements, the only response he thought himself capable of. In front of him, the prince made a low-throated sound that implied frustration.

"For the sake of my patience, take a seat, and you have my permission to speak freely. By now, this should already be implicit."

Doing as he was told, Axel granted himself a brief observation that the current state of Prince Rokusasu's temperament seemed anything but benevolent.

Despite the edict to speak plainly, and the likelihood that his enduring silence would serve to irritate the prince further, Axel found himself yet mute, eyes unable to look up from their fixed position on the swirling pattern of woven carpet beneath his sandaled feet.

"Axel."

The word was firm, more exasperated than angry. As if summoned upward by a force stronger than that keeping them down, Axel lifted his gaze, and green eyes met a distinct set of regal blue, that which the Fire Nation's royal family was known for.

"My lord Roxas," he returned. These words seemed to him less stalwart; the nickname felt wrong both inside his mouth and out in the open. Without question, this was the greeting of childhood friends. Although Roxas came closest, neither was a youth anymore in Axel's view.

Instead of eliciting a look of approval, the crown prince frowned.

"Some lord."

Derision laced his tone, as clear as the breath of air misting the space between both of them.

For a time, silence took sovereignty, as Roxas returned his attention to the window and Axel set his jaw and tensed his limbs in an attempt to keep from shivering. Although outfitted in thin, summery robes, legs and feet bare beneath him, Roxas hardly seemed to notice, and Axel found himself grappling with the concept of taking the prince's earlier words at face value by attempting to initiate something that passed for conversation. It would certainly fly in the face of Fire Nation social hierarchy, as well as mark the first time in recent memory that he'd taken Roxas up on an offer of this nature.

Though, what to speak of? Thoughts still focused on the room's chill temperature and his own personal desire for a bowl of steaming noodles to take the edge off it, Axel's first inclination was to ask if Roxas had already eaten.

He dismissed the inquiry almost as soon as it'd formed. The imposition of house arrest had no bearing on the palace servants' comings and goings, and the royal siblings ate on a set schedule. There was also very little to ask about with respect to Roxas' diurnal activities; his days were routine, no doubt bordered on mundane, and his schooling had been discontinued more half a year ago.

"I brought something for you," he finally ventured. "A gift, of sorts, if my lord will allow me to present it."

Only a hint of light lingered as Roxas turned back to him, the orange of the sunset's apex ceding to a darker hued crimson at the bottom ledge of the window. It bathed the angles of the lower half of Roxas' face in a carmine shade, the bridge of his nose and his forehead remaining so pale they looked almost ivory. The image reminded Axel of facial paint that great Fire Nation generals once adorned themselves with during times of war. It was unsettling, at the same time almost ethereal.

Roxas blinked, then shifted in his seat, and the illusion dissolved in tandem with his movement.

"A gift?" His expression turned wry. "You shouldn't have."

Ignoring the cynicism, Axel leaned forward.

"I wanted to give you something in acknowledgement of your birthd—"

As Roxas' eyes narrowed, Axel swallowed hard against the final syllable, cold-numbed fingers stinging as they pressed against the seat cushion on either side of him. He hastened to rephrase.

"It's more of a teaching tool, actually."

At this, a brow arched, a hint that his verbal quickstep had ebbed the looming threat of an imperial dismissal.

"Oh?"

Nodding, Axel twisted, slipping a hand into the pocket of his robe. He emerged with the small bundle tied together with twine a moment later, fingers furled tightly around it, a posthumous cautious.

A second brow rose, this time reflecting surprise, and Axel stifled his natural inclination to respond with a grin only just barely. This was the reaction he'd been hoping for, the look that he'd told himself would be worth the risk and effort of smuggling such contraband into the palace and all the way up to the royal family's living quarters.

Roxas reached out and Axel was only too happy to part with his offering. As the younger boy inspected the four thin sticks of timber, arguably no more than twigs, Axel found himself wishing he could have brought more.

"It isn't much, but it was all I thought I could hide without attracting attention."

For the first time that evening, Roxas' expression fostered some dynamism, his eyes two sparks of blue among the salon's lantern hues of yellow and green.

"It's perfect."

The look of vigor shifted too quickly for Axel to measure. When next Roxas regarded him, it was with an expression closer to impish.

"You were hoping for a demonstration?"

"And a lesson…" Despite the colloquial tone Roxas was now employing, it still didn't feel right to address him with such casualness. "…if my lord is willing."

The answering laughter was a gift in itself, more precious to him than a full room filled with gold. This was the Roxas he remembered from childhood, the one whose antics so often vexed his team of palace tutors, whose ebullient smile could settle even the most frayed of nerves during times of anxiety. Although he no longer visited as often as he'd have liked, Axel also doubted the reaction was one that came naturally to Roxas any longer. The thought saddened him.

Before the sensation could take root and begin to fester, Axel registered the distinct lack of mist with each subsequent expulsion of air that Roxas was now exhaling. He watched as deft fingers untied the twine, placing the string by his side as he examined each stick of individual wood with a scrutinizing eye. The sticks had been procured in the royal gardens at a time when no guards were on duty. It'd taken over a month before he could be sufficiently certain of security's rounds before he'd been willing and able to make his move. Under the circumstances, and considering the known consequences, the duration of time had seemed more than appropriate.

Head tilted, both arms raised in front of him, Roxas held the quartet of sticks in one hand, the fingers of his other curling into the semblance of a loose fist. He took a breath in while Axel held his own, chest aching with the subsequent lack of oxygen. Upon exhale, Roxas opened his hand, palm up, eyes now glowing from the modest flame dancing at direct center, where thumb merged with cupped palm.

At first, neither spoke as both sets of eyes fixed on the fiery wisp Roxas had generated. While Axel studied it with a sense of breathless adrenaline, Roxas' expression was calmer, simply appreciative. A satisfied smile formed next, and the flame grew with it, just large enough to make Axel remember the nature of their present situation.

"Mind the window," he said, voice hushed, tone cautious. "If anyone sees this, the punishment will be harsh."

"Then I'll die with my co-conspirator, and perhaps a modicum of honor," Roxas returned. Despite the bravado in his words, he followed Axel's suggestion. Sliding off of the chaise, he made his way over to Axel and the chair where he still remained seated.

Eyes still fixed on the flame Roxas had created, Axel considered its coloring as it oscillated between red, orange, and yellow.

"Can you control its temperature?"

Roxas shrugged.

"Somewhat, although the cold makes it more of a challenge."

As if to corroborate, the flame flickered, diminishing to half its original size, then even smaller. At the same time, the color deepened, red and orange ceding to a royal blue-purple that, in turn, yielded to near-blinding electric white. The color held for a mere instant before meeting its end in a small puff of smoke, only to be reborn a prince's breath later in roaring, vermillion red.

"Careful!"

As Axel recoiled at the unforeseen altering of flame size, Roxas merely offered a smile, expression relaxed.

"In any event, you got your demonstration." He tossed one of the sticks to Axel. "I suppose, then, it's time for the lesson."

Dimming the flame to a more manageable size, Roxas approached as Axel held the stick out. It took only a single breath for the dry kindling to catch, and Roxas stepped back the moment the flame had been transferred. Both watched as the small blaze made quick work of their modest offering, Axel inching his fingers accordingly downward until only a nub of the original twig remained.

"Concentrate."

The directive was uttered by Roxas, the responding hiss a product of singed fingers care of Axel as the flame made contact with his hand, only to be snuffed out with a flick of a princely wrist before it could reach the carpet beneath them.

"I wasted one." Axel's tone was as defeated as his expression. "I'm sor—"

The inception of a second flame interrupted his apology, momentarily blinding in its intensity. As it abated, Roxas passed him another stick.

"Try again."

Opening his mouth as though to protest, Roxas shook his head and the words died in Axel's throat, unspoken.

"Gain control before it connects with your hand, then command in accordance. Play the part of master, not that of a timid servant."

This time, the flame seemed to hesitate when it neared Axel's fingers. As Roxas murmured a word of approval, Axel shifted his hand into an open-palmed position and allowed the last of his stick to dissolve into fine ash within it.

The flame remained, hovering close enough to blister flesh. Roxas watched with a keen eye for one beat, then a second, before looking up at Axel's jubilant expression.

"See? It's really rather simple with the proper technique."

Eyes still fixed on his open palm and the flame above it, Axel nodded.

"It seems you've developed some wisdom to temper this talent since last we practiced."

The words were spoken teasingly, the comment more casual than any other Axel had yet spoken.

"Yes, well…"

Shifting position to take a seat in the chair next to him, Roxas glanced back toward the chaise and the window, expression turning rueful.

"It's not as though there is much else to pass time with here beyond waxing philosophical. My sister has refused visitors for weeks now."

Still distracted by the small miracle he held, Axel failed to notice the subdued sullen of Roxas' response.

"Maybe one day I'll be able to summon it as you do." His eyes followed the erratic dance of smoke and flame as he continued to speak. "Are you sure you don't remember how you mastered it?"

"I was taught as a child." Roxas' scowl returned, his words curt. "It was my mother who possessed that knowledge. Presumably, it died with her."

The harsh reminder of their nation's latest tragedy was enough to sober him. As Axel looked up and over at Roxas, the flame he'd been handling vanished as quickly as his loss of concentration.

"Shall I light another for you?"

"No, my lord. I must leave soon." Rising, Roxas returned to the chaise, the remaining two sticks held loosely in one hand, expression darkening, and Axel fought the urge to stand and follow him. "I'm afraid the purpose of my visit was two-fold."

Blue eyes met green, expression speaking of mild curiosity. When Roxas said nothing, Axel forced himself to continue.

"There has been talk of late involving the Earth Kingdom and its ruling family."

The prince's eyes narrowed, and Axel swallowed hard, suddenly uncomfortable. He'd much rather have had his presence associated with good tidings and happy memories, in perpetuity. Nevertheless, this was something of which he sincerely believed Roxas should be aware. When it seemed clear Roxas had no intention of asking questions, Axel pressed on.

"The crown prince is expected to return from the southern shores within a fortnight. There will be an event on the mainland held in his honor to celebrate triumphs over the Water Tribe."

Turning back to the window, Roxas didn't look at Axel when he next spoke.

"Why should it concern me how Earth Kingdom rulers commemorate their military victories?"

As Axel made a futile attempt at organizing his thoughts into an explanation that might soften the blow to come, his gaze fell on the sticks Roxas still held. Now more than ever, he wanted to believe in miracles.

"Because many believe the Earth King will annex our nation and offer it as a gift to his son."

There were many reactions to this news that Axel had prepared himself for. He'd imagined shock, anger, even grief at the countless wounds it would undoubtedly reopen. What he hadn't anticipated, however, was the rise of a small smile. He anticipated that look no better than the harsh laugh that shortly followed.

Axel remained silent, even after Roxas had quieted, simply watching his longtime friend watch the sunset, his expression unreadable, yet unquestionably fixed.

Roxas remained in place until the last rays of sun surrendered to rising moonlight, eyes still searching the horizon, perhaps for answers, or maybe even just a small measure of solace. When he next spoke, the words were quiet but firm.

"Then, I suppose our nation must endure one final royal sepulture."

He hadn't thought it was possible to get any colder, but the casual tone Roxas had adopted sent an external chill burrowing from his skin to someplace eminently deeper within him.

"You're speculating," he countered, no longer concerned for social protocol in the presence of royals. "The Earth Kingdom has always shown deference to our choices of self-governance."

"And you're being naive if you think they would make such an announcement without first extinguishing any competing claims to the Fire Nation's throne."

The blunt choice of words turned Axel's stomach. Like a vice, it tightened the muscles of his throat into a near stranglehold of anxious sentiment left unspoken. He wanted to reassure Roxas, to declare his intention to personally ensure something as terrible as this implication would never come to pass. He wanted to guarantee it, to offer some form of comfort through all of this. Deep down though, he knew it would be words and breath wasted.

He tried a different tack instead.

"What about your people?"

Roxas spared him only a passing glance before his gaze returned to the window.

"What about them?"

"They won't stand for this, surely." Although his throat felt raw, Axel maintained a level tone, tried to keep his response reasonable. "There would be riots. The royal family is well-respected."

"And replaceable," Roxas returned, voice just as measured. "People are more or less animals, just domesticated. They care less about who leads them, more that a leader exists and is able to adequately govern. If the news you bring me is accurate, the Earth Kingdom leaders seem more than capable."

Roxas spoke as though they were talking about something benign, like they were merely discussing the day's weather, rather than contemplating his own premature end at the hands of a nation willing to break long-held peace treaties between their two countries. To Axel, it sounded like Roxas was conceding before he'd so much as considered other options. It was equal measures as heartrending as it was infuriating.

"And your parents?" His voice was tight, higher than intended, but Axel no longer cared. The prospect of his friend's future could be at stake here. It seemed not to matter to Roxas, but that made one of them. "What would they think of a son, blessed by the spirits with such a natural bending aptitude, who is willing to capitulate to what essentially amounts to an infestation of ground rats without so much as considering fighting back?"

The tirade had winded him, and Axel paused to catch his breath. During that interim, the room felt momentarily warmer in the wake of a flickering blue gaze, and Axel found himself wondering if he'd gone too far. He waited for the biting reminder that he had forgotten his place, the glassy eyed looked that meant Roxas was distancing himself emotionally that came before a flutter of fingers, themselves on the heels of a dismissal he considered now more or less inevitable.

Instead, Roxas pinned him with an incited gaze, jaw tensely set, and Axel felt emerging heat rise from his chest into the sides of his face that had nothing to do with the room's current temperature.

"Do others hold similar views?"

Truth be told, Axel didn't know. This wasn't a topic safely broached in public. If the belief stirred even the most marginal of bellicose thoughts in Roxas, however, if it continued to light the fire in his eyes that was there right this moment, Axel decided the sin of a half-truth was more than worth any future retributive justice.

"They do."

Axel couldn't quite interpret the look that passed across Roxas' face at this declaration, but he did recognize the two remaining sticks in the fist Roxas unfurled before him, taking note only a moment before they succumbed to ash beneath the licking blaze of the flame Roxas had just summoned. He stared at their charred remains, then looked up at his friend since childhood, into a face that seemed flush with the first signs of renewed vitality.

"Then gather them," Roxas said. "It seems there remains something worth fighting for after all."


End file.
